


call me in the afternoon

by Areiton



Series: Find Me In the World [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Getting Together, Healing, Introspection, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles is healthy, Stiles-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:37:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: His hands shake when he opens the giftbox. It’s durable and has Derek’s distinct triskle on it, and Stiles strokes his fingers along the curves and arches of the black spiral, instantly familiar.He remembers Derek explaining it’s meaning to Liam, a lifetime ago, in the back of a van when he thought they’d all die.





	call me in the afternoon

The first time his phone rings, he ignores the call. He doesn’t answer numbers he doesn’t know, not anymore. 

The second time it rings, he kind of studies it and something makes him pick it up. 

“Mr. Stilinski. The piece you ordered from Triskle Wood has been delivered.” 

And he stops. 

He’s in the middle of his office, and his assistant is talking to him. The sun is shining and there’s a list of things demanding his attention and his father left a text for him that he hasn’t read. And he can’t move. 

Derek was here and he  _ responded _ . After almost four months of waiting and wondering and wondering what the hell he’d do when--if--this moment came.

Derek was here. 

He mumbles something, an excuse that amounts to nothing, and stumbles out of the office. 

There are clients waiting, and his boss will probably be pissed but that’s a problem for another day. Right now, he leans into the steering wheel of his stupidly practical car and breathes until the tightness in his gut slows and breathing doesn’t feel like an impossibility. 

He texts his father, and then drives to the little furniture boutique. 

It doesn’t look different, but it  _ feels _ different as he steps inside, the air crackling with something intangible. 

Davis looks at him and he smiles. 

It doesn’t take much--a few minutes and a ridiculously low price that Stiles suspects is merely because of the Davis and he steals glances at the new rockers, the sturdy side table. There’s a bookcase, thick and lovely, three sturdy shelves with the distinct triskle inlaid into shelves and the phases of the moon carved in the intricate woodwork. 

“I want that,” he says, impulsively and Davis’ eyebrows go up. Stiles flushes, and says firmly, “How much?” 

“The artist asked anything you wish to purchase be sold at cost.” 

Stiles doesn’t react to that, and Davis smiles. “Will Saturday be good for delivery?” 

 

He doesn’t let himself look until he’s home, after he’s had a beer and called his dad to tell him he’s fine. 

His hands shake when he opens the gift box. It’s durable and has Derek’s distinct triskle on it, and Stiles strokes his fingers along the curves and arches of the black spiral, instantly familiar. 

He remembers Derek explaining it’s meaning to Liam, a lifetime ago, in the back of a van when he thought they’d all die. 

He remembers the curves of it on Derek’s trembling wet skin, the night Jackson trapped them in the pool. 

He remembers seeing it in pictures and on walls, a repeated symbol in Beacon Hills that at first meant something to fear, and then--somehow, impossibly--became something to protect. 

And now, as he smooths his fingers over it, his heart pounds with that familiar fear and excitement that he hasn’t felt, not like this, not since Beacon Hills. 

For a moment, that thought terrifies him and he almost pushes it away. 

Almost stands and bolts, because he’s done it before, he ran six years ago and left everything behind and he is finally,  _ finally _ happy. 

And Derek doesn’t belong here. 

But then--Derek never did quite belong in Beacon Hills either, and maybe that was the draw. He was a puzzle and Stiles had never been able to resist puzzles. 

He opens the gift box and grins. 


End file.
